by A Wallace
Murphy laughed.
“After Chase and Christine died, I stepped in and did the best I could. She lived with her mother’s twin, Beverly. I wish I’d had a say. Bev didn’t do right by her.”
“Meaning?”
“Charley raised herself. When it was possible, I was there.”
“Makes sense, when you scold her, she kinda regresses.”
“It’s a coping mechanism.”
“You’re kinda hard on her.”
Doobie’s eyebrows rose. “You’re defending her? You sure you despise her?”
“I don’t dislike her. She annoys me. I’m not sure why.”
“Charley’s different, tough to understand. As a child, she was a rascal. Headstrong, aggressive, too smart. It’s part of her charm.”
“I’ve seen her good side.”
“Few know the real Charley. She hides behind whatever mask she’s wearing on any given day.”
“Who is the real Charley Faraday?”
“No one knows. I will tell you this. When she cares, it goes to her bones.”
“Then she’s numb concerning me.”
“Not true.”
“Right.”
“If she didn’t, she wouldn’t fuss with you. Did you not hear her defend you and the other detectives? Give her some credit. If she believes you’re of no value, she won’t waste her time or breath. She’s passionate. You should’ve figured that out the day she came at you in Charlottesville. She tried to save you and the case. And what did you do?”
“I… I… dismissed her.”
“Why?”
“I’ve thought about it… and… I can’t explain why she has this effect on me.”
Doobie arched his eyebrow. “Okay. Back to work.”
Murphy rose from his seat. “Thanks, Doobie.”
Murphy headed to his cubicle. He stopped mid-step, Charley stood at the window, talking on her cell with her foot propped on the apron. A female Atlas, was the weight of the world on her shoulders? She smiled and laughed. He sauntered to the door, his upper arm pressed against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. She ended her call and turned.
“What do you want?” Charley planted her hands on her hips.
“Who were you talking to?”
“Gawd, you’re nosey.”
“It’s rare to see you smiling and laughing.”
Charley tossed her phone onto the desk. “Scott Grae.”
“The name is familiar.”
“He’s our cyber genius, true nerd-geek. You gave him the photo of Gerald Leeds.” Charley leaned her hip on the edge of the desk. “Scott is my best friend.”
“Your best friend is a man?”
“So?”
“Wasn’t expecting that.” Murphy’s hand teetered. “The two of you are... just friends?”
“What are you implying?”
“Just curious.”
“Listen, jerk. Kimmie Matthews is his girlfriend.”
“The redhead in legal?”
“Yes.”
“Bet she hates you?”
Disbelief spread over her face. “Why would she hate me? I introduced them.”
Murphy scanned her head to toe. “Well, uh, she isn’t attractive.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
Murphy shook his finger at her. “For about two minutes I liked you.”
“My opinion remains unchanged. Go away, I’m busy.”
Murphy turned and retreated to his cubicle.
Chapter 8
It’s Good to be Back Home
Lorton, VA – Faraday Farms
Friday, 01 April – 2:30 PM
The University of Virginia in Charlottesville faded in Charley’s rearview mirror. Her buckskin satchel on the passenger seat held the test results, making the trip worthwhile. The data answered nagging questions regarding the Senters. However, would it be the key to solving Robin’s murder?
Charley steered her tornado-red Volkswagen Beetle into the garage of her home. Parked in the first bay next to the Denali after a deep sigh she opened the door and left the car.
Once inside, she dragged the backpack across the floor to the master bedroom. Seated on the edge of the king-size bed, she rolled her shoulders, flopped back onto the mattress, and rubbed her eyes. The digital clock on the nightstand told her she had time. “I’ll wait.”
She rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. “No, I can’t wait.”
Charley fumbled for her cell, lodged in her back pocket. She bolted upright, crossed her legs, and tapped on the contacts icon, smiling at the first name on the list, ‘Agent Asshole’.
One ring, two rings, click.
“Agent Murphy to Agent Faraday.”
“We need to talk,” Charley said.
“Oooo, really? Coming to my side?”
“Not a chance. It’s work related. Meet me at O’Shea’s Pub at nine tonight.”
“Will you ever invite me to your house?”
“Sure, when there’s a zombie apocalypse and one needs feeding.”
“You live in a cardboard box, don’t you?”
“Will you be there, or not?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Thanks.” She ended the call, fell back onto a pillow, and slept.
Springfield, VA - O’Shea’s Pub - 8:45 PM
O’Shea’s Pub brimmed with chatter and laughter. Old wood and varnish lingered in the air. Charley navigated the maze of tables to the rear of the watering hole. In the far corner, she spotted a tall cocktail table for two. She hiked her hip and slid onto the oak barstool. Her face buried in her hands, a female voice greeted her.
“Hi, Charley, the usual?” the server said.
Charley smiled at the young woman. “Hey, Tara… yes, please.”
“One bourbon, straight, coming up,” Tara said as she turned to leave.
“Hey, make it a double. I’m gonna need it.”
“Sure thing.”
Charley’s eyes patrolled the roomful of young lobbyists, lawyers, and reporters sitting about with yanked ties, and pulled-up hems. Most wanted to score before midnight with a name or face they wouldn’t remember. O’Shea’s attracted the up and coming. Charley could name them all.
Tara placed Charley’s drink in front of her. “Here ya go.”
“Thanks.” Charley dug into her satchel, lifting out a credit card and handed it to Tara. “Put it on this. Add twenty percent for your tip.”
“Thank you.” Tara took the card and disappeared into the myriad of customers.
Charley spun her glass on the smooth oak surface. She flipped through her mind what and how she would explain her idea to Murphy. Startled by a tap on her upper arm, she flung in his direction.
“You must be ashamed of me.” Murphy sat on the barstool across from her. “Far corner, damn, it’s dark back here.”
“Privacy is necessary,” Charley said.
“So, no romance.”
“I doubt you know what that is,” she said as Tara approached their table.
“Here’s your card, Charley, and thank you.” Tara turned to Murphy. “Would you like to order, sir?”
Murphy smiled. “I want the hard stuff tonight. Chocolate milk.”
Tara tipped her head. “Really?”
He chuckled. “Jack please, neat.”
“Yes, sir.” Tara turned to Charley. “Is this on the same tab?”
Charley and Murphy’s voices rang in unison.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Their eyes locked as Charley clocked his shin with her foot.
“He’s paying for his own.”
Murphy produced his debit card. “This’ll do.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll be back with your drink and card.” Tara smiled, leaving them more cocktail napkins and left.
“What’s this about?” Murphy said. “I doubt you wish to squander a Friday night with me.”
“We’re partners on the case, right?”
He cross
ed his arms on the table, arching his eyebrow. “Yes.”
“So… if I discovered something you would want me to share it?”
Murphy tilted towards her. “I’m listening.”
After a sip, Charley placed her bourbon on the table.
Murphy grabbed her glass and took a drink. “Mmm, ahh,” he grunted, sliding the seamless glassware towards her. “Good stuff. Nice of you to share.”
She slapped his hand. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Testing,” he said as Tara returned with his order and credit card. He smiled, nodded, and refocused on Charley. Tara grinned and left.
“Testing what?” Charley said.
“To see what you would do.”
“Now you know. Do it again and I’ll break your face.”
“Just messing with you, Faraday. Continue with what you were saying.”
Charley composed herself as she stretched her shoulders. “What if I acquired info, dismissing proper procedure, or I stepped away from protocol?” She diverted her attention to a couple spelunking each other’s tonsils with their tongues.
“What’s going on, Faraday?”
Charley placed her drink on the table and rubbed her chin. “While we were at the Senters, I kinda did something against professional integrity.”
“What did you do?”
“Remember when I went into both bathrooms and the nursery?”
“Sure.” He savored his drink and licked his lips.
“Well… I… uh…” Charley placed her fingertips on her mouth, “took hair samples from the brushes. I also lifted a sample of baby Robert from the nursery.” She cleared her throat.
Murphy tipped his glass to his lips and stalled. “You did what? Why?”
“Parentage.”
“That wasn’t part of the warrant.”
“Duh.”
He huffed. “It’s illegal, Faraday. What were you thinking?”
“Okay, Boy Scout, listen, okay? I destroyed the physical evidence.”
“I can’t believe you did this.” He leaned back on the bar chair, rubbing his face. “Now I’m implicated.”
“I’ll never admit I told anyone. You’re safe.” She swiped her hand. “You didn’t know.”
He tapped his chest with his index finger. “I do now, which makes me as guilty as you.”
“Oh please, you’ve never gone against procedure or protocol to solve a case?”
His clamped jaw twitched.
“Do you want the results or not?”
“I dunno.”
“All right.” She swirled the glass, admiring the golden liquid.
He crossed his arms. “Is this standard procedure for you? If so, I can’t work with you.”
“Your choice. You’re free to leave.”
“I get it now.” He glared. “You planned this.” He jabbed his finger at her. “You used this to dismiss me as your partner. Place a black mark on my record. You want to ruin me.”
Charley shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t do that. I’m many things, but vindictive isn’t one of them.”
Murphy sighed as his eyes burned into her. “Tell me the results.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, but I’m knee deep, I might as well hear the answer.”
“I ran a DNA parentage test using PCR.”
“PCR?”
“Polymerase chain reaction. It’s lab equipment used to simplify DNA.”
Murphy leaned on the table. “You can do that?”
“Yes. That’s why I went to UVA.”
Murphy punched his finger on the table. “Wait a second, you told me you were going to UVA to visit a college friend.”
“I did. Who do you think runs the genetics lab in the biology department?”
Murphy folded his hands at his chin. “All right, and what were the results?”
“I ran the test twice to make sure. Baby Robert isn’t Steven Senters’ son, but he is Bonnie’s child. Emma is Robin’s biological mom, not Bonnie.” Charley took a deep breath, chewing her lower lip. “Are you ready for the next revelation?”
“After this, how could it get any more insane?”
“Steven is Robin’s dad.”
Murphy’s mouth dropped. “Holy shit, Faraday.”
“There’s something else.”
“There’s more?” Murphy covered his mouth as he shook his head. “That… oh, man… I’m no prude, but that’s just…”
“I went into the Senters’ master closet.” Hesitant, she inhaled. “I found monthly magazine issues for swingers and wife-swapping. They came from a club located an hour southwest of here. Membership only.”
Murphy stiffened his shoulders and rubbed his chin. “Whoa.”
“I did a little digging. There’s an urban legend which originated in Berlin, Germany. It dates back to World War II. Swinger’s who sacrifice.”
“The ritualistic crime scene display, okay, I understand the connection. Where’re you going with this?”
“Go to the club and search their records for a connection to Berlin.”
“What?”
“It’s the only way.”
“How will we do that?”
“Extract files from a safe or computer. Without being caught.”
Exasperated, he growled, “Are you insane? Are you aware of how many federal laws would be broken?” He counted them off on his fingers. “Theft, breaking and entering, criminal misconduct, that’s just three, which come to mind. Give me a few minutes and I’ll list them all.”
“Suspicion isn’t enough for a warrant. This isn’t North Korea, Murphy.”
“I won’t do this.”
“Just listen,” she pleaded. “I’ll request the architectural plans from the county planning office.”
“Is this a common practice for you? Let’s add, invasion of a private business, and the big one, no warrant.”
“No.” With an anxious frown, she dropped her head. “This is new for me.”
“I won’t be a part of this.”
Charley sighed and closed her eyes. “Okay, I’ll figure out another way.”
“You can’t do this, Faraday. Do you realize you could end up in prison? Cops don’t fare well there. Their life expectancy is less than a year.”
“So?”
“Easy to say. You aren’t in the pen doing twenty to life because you broke the laws you’re supposed to protect. You’re watching your back, trying not to be Big Betty’s new girlfriend. Meanwhile, you’re looking for a shank in the kidneys by a cop-hating con.”
“Just leave, Murph.” She massaged the bridge of her nose. “I’ll do it alone.”
“Thanks for excusing me.” He stood. “Later, Faraday.”
“Bye.” She motioned to Tara, holding her empty glass in the air. Tara acknowledged her with a thumbs-up.
“What?” he said. “Your next move is getting drunk?”
“So?”
“Wreck and kill yourself?”
“No great loss, Murph. There’s nothing holding me here.”
“That’s bullshit.”
She gulped the rest of her drink. Tara placed another double bourbon on the table. “Yeah, like what? Go. Leave me alone.” She avoided Murphy’s eyes, taking a swallow, then she glanced at him.
Murphy’s jaw twitched as his eyes narrowed. “Faraday, you’re a liability. It’s no wonder you’ve never had a partner.”
“My choice. Too bad I had no say about you.” She jumped from the bar chair and walked towards the restrooms, disappearing as she turned the corner.
Murphy huffed and stalked from the bar, slamming the door. Headed towards his truck, he paced the parking lot, irate with Charley for taking unauthorized samples from the Senters’ home. He found it hard to fathom she would go that far. He leaned against the driver’s door wondering if he could continue their partnership. If she were capable of this, what else would she pursue?
Concerned about her drinking, he couldn’t leave knowing she downed bou
rbon like a lumberjack. Murphy ran his hand through his hair. “What to do? What to do?”
Six months ago, he had only seen her drink a glass of wine with dinner in Charlottesville. Why’s she doing this? He gazed at the moonlit sky. Why would she risk her career for this? He stared at the pub’s door.
Someone has to protect her from self-destruction. He ran his hand over his face and returned to the bar.
Murphy advanced towards her. Charley had a fifth of bourbon refilling a glass. She guzzled the sauce and dropped her head on the table. Murphy stopped next to her and wrapped his hand around her upper arm. “C’mon, Faraday, I’m driving you home.”
She flinched, yanked her arm away, and swung at him. “Get your hands off me.”
“You’ve had enough.”
“Go away.”
He wagged his finger at her. “Oh, no, we’re doing this my way, little lady. I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here if you don’t come quietly.”
“Keep your hands off me, jerk.”
“If I leave you here, Doobie will hand me my ass.”
Charley smacked her forehead with her fingers. “What was I thinking? It’s always about you.”
Murphy snatched the bottle of booze from the table and shoved it in Tara’s hands with a warning as she passed by. ”Serve her another round and it will be the last one this place serves.”
“Yes, sir.” Tara giggled, taking the bottle from him.
“Go home, Murph,” Charley said. “I’ve taken care of myself long enough. I don’t need you.”
“You’re drunk, Faraday.”
“No, I’m not. I’ve had two—”
“Four.” He held up two fingers. “Two doubles.”
“I don’t care.”
Silence floated between them.
Murphy huffed. “Do you have any idea what happens at swingers clubs?”
“No. Only what’s in the movies. What about you?”
“I do, not from experience.”
“Surprising.”
He grabbed the bourbon from her hand, slamming it on a table nearby. “Why are you risking everything on a hunch or a legend?”
She leaned sideways and stretched for her glass. “It’s more than that.”
Murphy snatched the glass and motioned for Tara. “What is it then?”
